


Ashes of Eden

by SargentCorn



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Heavy Angst, M/M, Major Character Injury, Major Illness, Please Don't Hate Me, Please Don't Kill Me, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, There is no real happiness in this fic, Tumblr Prompt, but - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:02:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 16,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24466147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SargentCorn/pseuds/SargentCorn
Summary: Their hands stayed locked together until they part so Dutch can mount the Count, and Hosea can settle into the seat of the carriage he’s driving in with Abigail. Final shout from Dutch signals for everyone to move, and the robbery, with everything that comes with it, is on.A chapter six au given to me from tumblr.
Relationships: Abigail Roberts Marston/John Marston, Hosea Matthews/Dutch van der Linde
Comments: 52
Kudos: 70





	1. Faithful

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:** I see your hiatus, but raise you this prompt for safekeepings. What if Hosea and Abigail traded places in the bank robbery? Would Milton execute her, or goad John into the open and kill him to wear on Dutch? Do these deaths (and Guarma) hurt Dutch too badly for even Hosea to fix? What happens when Hosea sees Arthur is sick as well? Would everything still fall apart or would the curious couple and their son get a more peaceful end? TL;DR: Chap 6, but with Hosea.
> 
> Yeah, I can do that. Enjoy everyone.
> 
> Also, I can be found [ here](https://sargentcorn.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I take prompts at my leisure.

Of all the houses Hosea Matthews has stayed in since joining the gang, Shady Belle isn’t the worst. But it isn’t the best either. His room has four walls and a roof, but outside he can hear the lazy noises of the swamp. Sounds of alligators catching their prey. And a deep fear that Jack will accidentally fall in, and they’ll never see him again.

Sighing at the thought, Hosea closes his book gently before placing it on the nightstand. Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, he rubbed his temples idly. Letting his thoughts get to him wouldn't help the gang tomorrow. Not on a big heist as a city bank like Saint Denis's.

Yet, his mind wouldn’t leave him alone.

Deep inside, he could hear the soft protests rumbling. The worry that everything could go wrong in the blink of an eye. After all, there was no telling how big the police force was in a city like Saint Denis. Bigger cities either had too little or too large of a police force. Not to mention with the trail of destruction they had been leaving, he wouldn’t be surprised if the Pinkertons had come to Saint Denis just in case. There were so many large targets fat with money, but some could be easily filtered out.

Sighing, he let his back hit the wall. They couldn’t call the robbery off now. Everyone was far too excited at the idea of how much cash they would be flushed with. Valentine’s bank had given them quite a bit, but Saint Denis’s would give them more. Far more than the measly sum from Valentine’s.

The door to his room opening breaks him from his thoughts. Opening his eyes that had shut, he sees Dutch standing in the doorway. Judging by the panic hidden in his eyes, a barely detectable tremor, and the tightness of his smile, Hosea can already tell why he’s in the room. Dutch has never been able to hide these things from the way he can everyone else. Susan and Arthur can see through Dutch a bit, but not at as well as Hosea can. Dutch is an open book to him most of the time.

Manging his own smile, Hosea gently pats the spot next to him. Dutch seems to ghost over to him before setting himself on the cot where Hosea patted. His lover stares at him for a few passing seconds before burying his face into his neck accompanied by a shuddering breath. Hosea moves his hands from his lap to rub up and down Dutch’s back. A gesture that calms the metaphorical hidden lion in Dutch’s skin.

Idly playing with Dutch’s curl in between back rubs, he waits for Dutch to break the silence that wraps around them. He thinks of their sons and daughter as they sit there. Thinks of Bessie and the love he shared with her. Wonders briefly if the job will go wrong, and he’ll be meeting her sooner than he thought. He was old now and surprised he wasn’t in the ground just yet. Dutch’s voice pauses him from going with that train of thought.

“Hosea, sweet fox,” he mutters, breathe wafting across Hosea’s skin. A shudder nearly leaves him. “I’m worried, darling. I’m so very worried.” Dutch’s hands move from his lap to Hosea’s sides. And he can feel the other man’s grip tighten a bit. “It’s tearing my insides apart. I feel like something bad is going to happen, and I’m scared. So very scared.” Hosea pulls him closer when he hears Dutch muffle a sob.

Cupping Dutch’s cheek, Hosea stares in the eye. “We’ll be fine, Dutch,” he tried to soothe even though he knew he was feeling the same way. But Dutch shook his head firmly.

“No, Hosea…” Dutch placed his hands in Hosea’s. “I keep getting this gut feeling we’re not going to be okay. That this is going to blow up on us. But, the die is cast, and everyone’s so excited about it. How can I tell them we’re calling it off after all this?” Brown eyes gaze towards the door. “All of them would be so crestfallen if I called it off based on merely a gut feeling.”

Humming in agreement, Hosea pulls Dutch closer. He wishes he could soothe everything for him. Wishes he could somehow magically tell that everything is going to be okay for them. That they’ll all make it out of the bank safely. But he can’t when deep down inside he feels the same about the bank. And Dutch is right, the gang would not be pleased after all this work has been put into it. So, he says instead, “Everyone will be okay, Dutch. Our sons and daughter will get out of this, we’ll get out of it.”

No words come from the infamous speaker, and the man pulls Hosea closer to him. A sigh leaving his mouth, Hosea presses kisses to the top of Dutch’s head. He's pretending to not hear the sobs escaping from his lover. 

All Hosea can do for him is hold him tight, and pretend that everything is going to be alright. Even if he knows that it won't be.

Morning comes, and Hosea wishes in so many ways it didn’t. There’s a bundle of nerves sitting hot and deep in his stomach. The type of nerves you can’t will away no matter how hard you try. And Hosea tries so very hard to push them from his mind. But in the deepest parts, the nerves stay like a hot brand in his mind. Unwilling to leave him no matter how hard he tries to force them out. He hopes Dutch doesn't notice the slight tenseness he carries this morning.

Leaving his room, he carries his suit up the stairs with him. They may sleep alone in the old house, but everyone knows they’re often by each other’s sides when awake. So, Hosea has no qualms in slipping upstairs and through the doors to Dutch’s room.

There, he finds his lover pulling out coats. A frown on his face as he inspects each one carefully, no doubt trying to look his best like always. Smiling softly, Hosea gently places his suit down on the bed and wraps his arms around Dutch’s neck bringing a smile to his lover’s face. “I always did like the one with the red underside better,” he spoke in his ear about the two coats Dutch had out.

“You do?” Dutch hummed with his wonderful coy smile appearing. 

Humming in agreement, Hosea turns Dutch’s head just enough to press a kiss to the other man’s lips. The kiss is filled to the brim with all the little emotions Hosea can’t bring himself to verbalize this morning. However, he knows Dutch will understand the meaning behind the kiss. They've always been able to tell each other messages each kiss. This one is no different from the last.

Pulling away, and regretful he has to, Hosea hummed his agreement. “Very much, big cat.” He cups Dutch’s cheek again to rub it slowly with the pad of his thumb. Dutch leans into the motion closing his eyes briefly. And Hosea lets the moment linger before pulling away again. “Come on, Dutch. As much as I would like to stay like this, we still have a job to do.” His lover exhales closing his eyes before getting up.

Roughly ten minutes later, and they’re both dressed and fussing over the little details in the other’s suit. There are small smiles on their faces as they do, but neither smile matches its owner’s eyes. Both of them are worried, and both of them know the other is worried. And when Hosea is pulled into another tight hug, he knows how deeply worried Dutch truly is.

They’ve hugged each other before jobs, sure, but with the strength Dutch is showing him, Hosea knows it’s a different kind of hug. The hug you give when you’re scared you might not see the other person again. And Hosea wishes he could truly ease Dutch’s mind so he would calm down knowing they would be fine, but he can’t. He doesn’t have the heart to try and lie to Dutch like he did last night.

Slowly moving away from the embrace, Hosea presses another kiss to Dutch’s lips. A kiss, like last night's, filled to the brim with emotions he’s scared to say this morning in fear of accidentally breaking down into tears suddenly. 

He’s scared too, in the deepest pits of his mind, but nothing can stop the events from occurring. The gang is in too deep to stop whatever comes next. A sentiment shared by Dutch when they pull away and share one final look before heading downstairs to join the others.

Their hands stayed locked together until they part so Dutch can mount the Count, and Hosea can settle into the seat of the carriage he’s driving in with Abigail. Final shout from Dutch signals for everyone to move, and the robbery, with everything that comes with it, is on.


	2. End

The carriage creaks under them as they lead the group towards Saint Denis. And bubbling under the surface of his skin, Hosea can feel a nervousness there. Like a warning that they shouldn’t do this, and that things could go wrong. A thought only referenced as he manages to catch John and Dutch arguing over the job and the security they could run into.

Idly, his ears hear the snap of a gator’s jaws, and he wonders if it's a warning. He finds himself turning to face Abigail. 

“Abigail,” he says solemnly making her face him. “I need you to promise me if something goes wrong, you run, okay? I’m an old man, and you got a young son that needs you.”

“Hosea,” she says with a frown adorning her face. Sternly, he gives her a look, and she closes her eyes. Her hand lands on his leg and squeezes. “Okay,” she agrees.

“Thank you,” he says just as Dutch calls his name. “I just need a little time, Dutch. Let us go ahead!” His lover replies with an okay, and he pushes the horses forward away from the group. They quickly make a gap between the group and them with the group slowing down.

Rounding around corners and streets, Hosea sneaks a glance behind him to see if the gang is following them, and he’s pleased to see they’re not. Their plan would have gone down the drain if they did. Even in a city like Saint Denis, a large group of people dressed fancy would have drawn stares.

Slowly, he and Abigail inch the carriage into an alleyway Hosea had seen before and liked. Tension settles in his stomach like a gut punch as the pair make sure no one’s seen them. And once pleased, they start losing the horses from the carriage while Hosea tries his best to ignore his gut feelings.

“Right,” he says handing the reins of the other horse to Abigail. “Don’t let them go just yet. Let me make one more check in case.” Abigail nods as she takes the reins, and Hosea inspects the barrels. But in his haste to get back to camp, and back to Dutch, he misses the fact he miscounts the barrels. He also misses the fact that one fuse is shorter than the others.

Inhaling, and pleased with his check, he gives Abigail the go-ahead. The horses are released into the crowd followed by her cry. People on the streets shout while he fumbles lighting the match, his hands trembling more than they should. And due to his miscalculations from before, just as he and Abigail are a few steps away, the barrels explode shaking the ground and screeching in his ears.

He doesn’t feel his body fly forward and hit the wall with a resounding thump. Nor does he hear Abigail’s scream, or the sounds of footsteps and whistles. His sight goes black, and as it does, he can only think about his family.

Abigail screams out, “Hosea!” She can’t believe her eyes seeing Hosea suddenly fly away from her. One second he’s next to her telling her to hold the reins, and the next he’s flying through barrels seemingly dead to her eyes.

“Hosea!” she shouts moving to his body. Placing her hands on him, she tries her hardest to rouse him, but Hosea doesn’t stir. Tears well up in her eyes, and she tries to drag his body from the wreck, but she fails to move him when she hears a voice telling her to halt. 

She turns to look behind her. The barrel of a repeated is pointed in her direction, and she can see the blue uniform of a cop.

“Please!” she tries hoping she can convince the cop to let her go, and take Hosea’s body to the doctor because surely he can’t be dead. “My grandfather and I were just strolling by when it exploded, sir!”

Slowly, the rifle barrel drops a bit, and Abigail dares to let herself hope. Lying is something she knows how to do well. Something she's learned from her days as a whore and something Hosea has helped her refine. And when it's clear he's starting to believe her, Abigail hopes even more.

“Please!” she tries again. She knows Hosea asked her to leave him behind, but she can’t quite bring herself to leave him. “He could be injured or worse. He needs to get to the doctor!” A sob wretches from her chest, both real and played up for the officer before her.

“Okay, ma’am,” he says slinging his repeat on his back. He moves to them, and Abigail inwardly cheers. Her lie has worked, and she might be able to get Hosea out of here.

The boxes are moved from Hosea's motionless body while Abigail acts as a granddaughter worried for her grandfather. Dabbing at her eyes, she lets out the necessary sobs and whimpers as the cop lifts up Hosea from the ground. But just as he’s about finish lifting Hosea from the ground, a voice stops them.

“Well, what’s this?” Both she and the cop turned to see a man standing at the beginning of the alleyway. He’s dress neatly with a badge on his jacket. And the gaze he has looking at Hosea is one of amusement, and Abigail feels her stomach drop.

“Sir, I’m assisting this young lady with her grandfather. She says they were walking by when it exploded.” The new man chuckles and clicks his tongue walking close to them. A smirk etches its way on his face as he also shakes his head confusing the cop helping Hosea. Her and the cop’s eyes dart to the men behind the first neatly dressed man. They share the same clothing style as the first man, and Abigail feels fear settle in her stomach.

“Officer, while I commend you for doing your job, I’m afraid this isn’t just some lady and her grandfather.” He points to Hosea. “That is Hosea Matthews of the infamous van der Linde gang.” The cop’s eyes widen, and the fear Abigail feels heightens. The smirk on the man widens. “And that is one of the camp women I believe.” He squints at her. “Although I’m not sure which one.”

She swallows visibly, and the man chuckles softly at her. “Your name, miss?”

“Abigail… Roberts,” she says softly, her body beginning to tremble. She can’t lie anymore with this man here. Her cover has been blown. “What’s yours?”

“Andrew Milton of the Pinkerton Agency,” he answers. There's amusement in his eyes and tone. She feels a scream wanting to come from her chest. There’s no escape for her or Hosea with the Pinkertons present.

His eyes flicker back to Hosea’s body. “What irony it is for a conman to be killed by his own con? Normally they’re arrested more than dead. Heh.” Milton stepped forward inspecting Hosea’s body. “And he is dead, right?”

Adjusting the body, the cop placed his fingers on Hosea’s neck checking for a pulse. “I don’t feel one, sir.”

“A shame, in its own way,” Milton says almost wistful. “He would have made good bait for van der Linde considering the nature of their relationship.” Rocking back on his heels, Milton lets out a low exhale. “But Miss Roberts will have to do, I suppose.” With a gesture, two of the agents behind Milton reach forward to grab Abigail.

“Let me go!” she hisses. “I’m not worth much!”

A cruel laugh leaves his lips as he shakes his finger at her. “Actually, you’re worth something according to my intel,” Milton corrected her. “I do believe van der Linde would trade for his life, especially when you have a son to look after, and Matthews is dead.” Abigail’s eyes widened understanding what Milton was saying.

“You bastard!” she yelled lunging at him, but the men holding her kept their grips strong.

“Take her away,” Milton ordered before turning to the cop. “I’ll be leaving a couple of men here with the body until someone can pick it up to take it to the morgue.” The cop glanced at her briefly before swallowing. “Oh, don’t worry. You won’t be held liable for helping. After all, she was trying to con you into helping her, and as far as you knew, she was a respectable woman.” The man’s shoulders sagged in relief.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Of course. Come with me now. We have the bastards cornered in the bank, and they have hostages.” With a salute, he followed behind Milton, and a wail came from deep in her heart.

“Hosea!” she yelled one more time before being dragged away, and all hope fell from her body. She should have left as Hosea told her, and now she was going to pay the price of not listening. The idea shook her to her core. She may never see Jack or John again. She let the tears fall from her eyes freely as she was dragged towards the bank.


	3. Final Warning

For a bank robbery of this size, everything is smooth as butter. They owe it to Hosea's distraction for keeping the police from noticing. And despite the whimpers from some women, the rest of the hostages are calm for the time being. But in the back of his head, something nudges him quietly.

A worry he can’t get rid of. One that’s been in the back of his head since last night. And today, even with everything going so well, it’s multiplied. It’s on the tip of his tongue, and he can’t name what’s there, but he can feel it. Almost like a deep-seated fear in his gut, but all over his body. There have been very few times he’s felt this way, and he can’t name why he does.

He peeks out the window to see if there’s anything there. But the roads outside are dead quiet since the explosion went off. The citizens had scurried off back to their loved ones while the police chase after ghosts. But the sight of empty streets do very little to temper his hidden fears.

“How we doing there?” he half-snarls to Arthur whose holding a gun to the manager’s head.

“Almost there,” his oldest son says back before growling out a low threat at the manager. Stumbling, the manager moves as fast as he can, but to Dutch it’s taking too long for him. He doesn’t like it, but a safe like the one in here takes a long while to open up. A deterrent for lesser men than him.

Some of his anxieties are quell when the vault door opens with a groan. Grabbing the manger's shoulder, he shoves the man towards Micah without looking. They're not in a position like Blackwater, so there's no reason to start shooting hostages.

Clamping down those thoughts proceeding, he follows Arthur into the vault. Quickly, both of them start opening small vaults and drawers filled to the brim with cash. Dutch swears his mouth waters at the sight of it all.

They’re quick to shove as much as they can get into the saddlebags. Time is limited despite the head start they’ve been given. Arthur pauses to look at him, and he can tell his son is thinking the same as he before they resume shoveling money where they can stuff it.

“Right,” Arthur spoke minutes later. “All full here. How about you, Dutch?” He glances down to see he still has more space.

“Just a little more,” he replies moving to grab some extra bills. However, all good things must come to an end, because just as he finishes putting the last stack in, John’s raspy voice sounds loud and clear.

“Dutch, we got a problem here!” Sharing a look with Arthur again, he marches out with the younger man hot on his heels.

“What is it, John?” he says.

“Time’s up. We got police, and Pinkertons too, I think, out there.”

“Shit!” Arthur hissed behind him, taking a place near the window.

Leaning against a wall, he takes peek outside. His gaze lands on several finely dressed men. There are Pinkertons mixed in the ranks of the cops, and Dutch swears under his breath.

“What we doing, Dad?” asked Arthur, who took a glance out of the window.

“I don’t know yet, son.” Glancing around the room, he searched for things that could help that weren’t hostages. He promised Hosea to never do that again, but he’s not sure he’ll be able to keep it. “Let me think for a bit. Just try to stall for now. We got a barging chip they don’t have.”

However, it seems luck has left them, because one of the last voices he wants to hear on this planet speaks out.

“Dutch van der Linde!” cries Milton joining the group of Pinkertons and police. “Come out here now!”

“Oh lovely,” he hisses under his breath before shouting back. “I can’t do that, Agent Milton. Not with your people standing out there!”

“We’re not going to leave, van der Linde! Now, come out here!” Milton replies back. “I got someone you might like to see. And it’s not Mister Matthews. It seems your fool of a con man got himself killed by his own explosive.” 

A ripple runs through the gang, and straight to his heart. Hosea can’t be dead, can he? But what they see in front of them seconds later has Milton’s words seeming true.

Abigail's name is a whisper on John's lip as she stands in front of them all at gunpoint. Dutch can feel his heart stutter at the sight of Abigail in tears. The expression on her face speaks the truth of what Dutch wishes wasn't there.

Hosea is dead.

“Mister Milton, let her go. She’s got a son to raise. You wouldn’t rob a young boy of his mother, would you?” Dutch tries for Jack’s sake, swallowing down the pain of knowing his lover is dead.

“Ha! Why should I let her go? She came here still despite having a son,” Milton shoots back. “She knew the risks, van der Linde!”

“Come on, Agent Milton,” Dutch almost pleads. “Just let her go, and we’ll start letting people out. Don’t let her go, and we’ll start shooting our hostages!” But he sees Milton shake his head before pushing Abigail into the street. Metal flashes in the sunlight as she stumbles forward. A loud bang and smoke follow seconds later. Blood flows from her chest where the bullet penetrates by her heart, and the gang sees her crumple into the street motionless.

“There’s your deal, van der Linde,” Milton says. Several enraged noises come from his men. But the gang stays in place still waiting for Dutch to tell them his plan. 

He closes his eyes with an exhale trying to ignore the feelings in his chest. How could everything go wrong so quickly?

Struggling to think of what to do, Dutch hears John swear loudly from his position. “Damn you to hell!” he shouts. The anger in John’s voice so apparent at her death. Maybe he should have let the two of them go so little Jack would have both parents. But Milton’s next words stop him dead in his tracks.

“Well… sounds like someone was close to her. Maybe you should have come out and exchanged your life for hers. Then I wouldn’t have shot her.”

“You didn’t let us make a deal, you bastard!” John growls back.

“John, calm down,” Arthur says, eyes on Dutch. Swallowing, he stares back wondering if Arthur can tell he has no plan, and no words this time. 

Everything he feared had come alive in a matter of minutes. He has to try to calm down John, however. For Hosea, for Abigail, and for Jack.

“John, calm down, son,” he starts at first fully intending to go on, but John doesn’t listen to him. Something in John has snapped, and they can’t soothe the anger rising in him. In his typical bullheaded fashion, John rushes out the door before Javier or Bill can grab him. He’s firing shots at Milton as he runs and yells, but all of them seem to miss. And the rain of Pinkerton bullets splashing into his chest, arms and stomach stop him midway in the street. His body falls to the ground next to Abigail’s.

“John!” he and Arthur cry out in pain seeing John’s body go limp. Shock stuns them from moving. They couldn’t have lost another member today, have they? 

But when several silent minutes move slowly by, and John doesn’t move. From his position in the window, he can see Milton straighten.

“Now what, van der Linde? That’s three down. Surrender your life, and I’ll let the rest of your boys go. I just want you dead, and now you know how truly serious I am about it,” Milton announces hands behind his back as he stares down the bank, and them in it.

“John,” Arthur whispers hoarsely. He can see the pain on the man’s face, and it’s been a while since Dutch has seen it so openly. Not since the death of Eliza and little Issac.

“Don’t you go and get yourself shot too, Arthur,” Dutch said, his voice cracking a little. He’s not sure he could stand if he lost Arthur as well today. His son shakes his head once.

“No, dad, I’m not. But I am going to shoot at these bastards!” He hissed breaking the window and making the choice for them all. A choice Dutch finds himself agreeing with.

Breaking his side of the window, Dutch shouts, “Kill these fools! We’re going to make it out of here alive!” Taking aim, he fires towards an officer hide next to a crate. The bullet whirls through the air, and he sees blood splattered out an officer’s head seconds later. 

Rage boils through his body and skin, and he refuses to let it settle down for once. The Pinkertons have taken too many of his gang, of his family, from him. And they've taken the lover he hoped to die peacefully next to. There would be no mercy for them.


	4. Lie Lived

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lateness of this chapter. I got a puppy about a month ago. She's only three months, and still has a lot to learn. Enjoy!

Mind racing, Dutch struggles to figure out a way to get everyone out. Even as a part of him wants to run out and die so he can join Hosea. But he knows the older man would slap him over the head for doing so foolish. So, he fights for their family, their sons.

Eying one of the walls, he gathers some dynamite together and binds it. It’s a shoddy plan, but it’ll give them a chance to escape. Milton can’t watch all of the bank. He doesn’t have the men even if it feels like there’s an army. 

Although, he is being funded by Cornwall’s money, so perhaps he does have an army. Dutch isn't sure and doesn’t have the time to really think about it as he hands the bundle to Arthur.

The wall explodes, and he sends Arthur up to the roof. He’s their best shot. Better than Dutch, better than the whole gang. Sometimes Dutch wonders what would have happened if they hadn’t picked Arthur up out of the streets. Probably wouldn’t be in the situation to start with. But that doesn’t matter anymore. He’s here, the gang is here, and they can only go forward, not back.

He’s firing more shots when he hears Arthur’s cry of ‘Lenny!’ Turning, he expects to see another member dead in this blasted job, but Arthur’s quicker then the boys in blue, and blood pours out before the men can react. Relief runs through him as he sprints by happy to know they weren’t losing another member of their family just yet.

Racing across the rooftops, he sees a building that looks abandoned and the perfect spot for them to hide and regroup. Moving the board blocking the window, he urges the exhausted group into the dusty building. Looking around one more time, he slips through, and for the first time in a while, he gets a good look at his people, his family, his last son. And his heart breaks.

Exhausted and pained expressions settle over the survivors. His gaze lands on Arthur who wears an expression of pained disbelief. He wants to reach out and comfort his son, but he can’t. Because if he does, he’s going to break, and he needs to be strong for them all right now. He can break later in private.

“God,” Lenny breathes after minutes of tense peace. “That… John, Abigail… Hosea.” He turns to stare at Dutch wide-eyed. “So many people, Dutch. How? How did everything go so wrong?”

Dutch shook his head. “I don’t… I don’t know,” he admits. Pacing, a feeling of tenseness washes over him. Everything is in disarray. His gang, his heart, and his mind are chaotic, and his rock isn’t here to help him settle.

“I can’t believe it,” Javier muttered from his spot on the floor. “How could John do that? I mean, I know he loved Abigail, but to run out there and die? It makes no sense.” He shook his head in clear disbelief at the events he had witnessed. “And Abigail… why kill her? She didn't have a bounty as far as I know.”

“To send a message, I guess?” Charles replied rubbing his temples. “That Milton’s not going to give us any more deals. That we’re riding this train till it’s end.” Sighing, he asked the question haunting the back of everyone’s mind. “Dutch, what’s… what are we going to do for Jack? He’s lost both of his parents.”

Swallowing heavily, Dutch nearly shows everyone how much the deaths are weighing on him. Closing his eyes briefly, he exhales before saying, “I don’t know. There’s, there’s nothing we can do right now while we’re being hunted. We’re useless to him if we get caught. We gotta… we gotta rest and figure out a plan. Find out a way to get out of the city. There’s no doubt the roads are blocked.” Glancing around the room, his eyes land on a picture of a boat. “A boat. They can’t watch the water the same way they can watch the roads. Too little manpower for that.”

Quietly without further conversation, they settle into their spots. A few of them choose to stay awake for a bit so they can keep an eye on the area. The rest will take over after they get some rest. Then they’ll search for a boat and see if they can get back to camp, and get the hell out of Saint Denis.

Nighttime blankets the city, and the survivors of the disastrous bank robbery sneak out of their hole. They slink through the buildings, streets, and trains to arrive at the docks. Three Pinkertons block their way, and Dutch tells Arthur to find a way to get them to move. 

His ever dutiful son grumbles before moving away and letting out a loud whistle. Like moths to a flame, the men move to allow the gang to slip by unnoticed.

But their luck stalls at the sight of three Pinkertons waiting and talking near a boat they can get lost on. Dutch pauses thinking of a plan he can use to lure them away, and let the group move to safety. But he doesn’t know any that aren’t loud and attention stirring to the point several men would descend on them.

Chewing on his bottom lip, he tries to think of anything that would work, but Charles stands up with Lenny. His mouth unhinges to speak, but Charles tells him to escape with the others, and not to worry about it. He’s confused until he sees the two walk forward before splitting and running away in different directions. The Pinkertons give chase allowing them to crawl onto the ship, and find a place to hide.

“Think we’ll be good here, Dutch?” Arthur whispered from his hiding spot.

“We’ll have to be,” Dutch replied glancing around in slight worry. “I only hope Lenny and Charles don’t get caught.” 

Arthur grunted in agreement before settling into sleep.

Down on the morgue, Milton waits at the head of Hosea Matthews. He’s staring at the man’s place face. The former outlaw looks almost peaceful despite the way he lived and died.

It makes Milton disappointed he didn’t get to watch Hosea swing at least. But perhaps he’ll get to see at least van der Linde swing from the rope. He’d be alright with that regardless of what happens in the future.

Slowly, he switches his gaze to the recently brought bodies to the morgue. Matthews had been brought here earlier after they had found him and Roberts. He glances down at the now dead woman’s face, and he almost feels sorry for the woman. 

Almost. 

She could have left the gang, but she didn’t. She chose to stay. She should have thought about her son first before agreeing to join the fools on their hopeless quest to rob the city. And now she reaped that decision with her death.

Finally, his gaze lands on Marston, and he scowls slightly. The man was a fool for thinking he could have saved Roberts from her fate. Well, he could have if he had given Dutch up, but he doubted the man would have. Especially with his gang members near him. The cravens would have pounced on Marston the moment he tried. Maybe he didn’t really have a chance to save her at all. Either way, he was dead, and that was one less van der Linde gang member to catch. Made it an easier job for him.

A cleared throat drew him from his thoughts. He stared impassively at the coroner before him. And the man took it as a hint he could start talking.

“I’m not sure what the exact cause of death for one Hosea Matthews is. Between his lifestyle and age, it could have been many things that killed him. All I know is that blast served to hasten his death,” the man droned on reading off his chart. “But I suppose you don’t care for the exact details with him dead.”

“No, I don’t.” Spinning on his heel, he walked towards the outside with Ross on his heels like always. “Thank you, sir. Please send the report to my office anyways. I’ll need it for mine.” A grunt answered him, and he was fine with the lack of words. The coroner rarely failed to preform his job. There was no need to remind him who was in charge here.

“So,” he said when he and Ross had left the building. “The second in command is dead. And a son is dead.” Ross offered him a cigarette, and he took it. “We have about maybe seventeen people left? And the biggest bounties are on van der Linde and Morgan.”

“Yes. The only two that come close are a Javier Escuella if you count his bounty from Mexico, and a Micah Bell. However, neither man holds that much clout in the group as Morgan does.”

Milton inhaled the smoke deeply. “No matter. With Matthews and Marston dead, it shouldn’t be too hard to go after the rest. Morgan is good, but he’s no Hosea Matthews.” He watched the smoke drift away from him. "They'll crumble one way or another."


	5. Anybody Calling

Guarma and the weeks following had been utter hell for Arthur. Between the sweltering heat, annoying bugs, lung choking coughing fits, and Dutch’s ever-growing insanity, he couldn’t decide what had been worse. 

The island had felt as if everything had been intensified. His father’s deteriorating mental state after the deaths of his other father’s and brother’s deaths. And the choking feeling he felt whenever he coughed. Something tickled the back of his brain thinking about how the cough had been the pre-Guarma, but it hadn’t been this bad. Just a tickle in the back of his throat. He ignored the thought and focused on getting to Lakay, and meeting up with the rest of the gang.

The horse he had stolen from Van Horn snorted underneath him while its hooves squished through the swamp mud. Wiping his forehead as he rode in, he saw Pearson and… and someone he hadn’t been expecting to see ever again hanging around a table in front of one of the shacks.

Hosea. Father. Pa. He was alive.

Slipping from the saddle, he almost stumbled forward, his breath stolen from him at the sight of his Pa watching Pearson work. “Pa,” he croaked gaining the attention of the two men.

Hosea’s face flooded with relief on seeing him, and the father-son pair embrace each other in a warm gentle hug. Bandages cover Hosea’s torso, and it’s clear he’s recovering from his ‘fatal’ wounds even though he’s standing. But Arthur doesn’t quite care as he presses his face into his father’s neck.

“Son,” Hosea whispers voice filled to the brim with warmth. “I’m glad to see you alive and well. Nobody knew what happened to you boys.” Arthur chuckled into the crook of Hosea’s neck.

“Neither did we.” He pressed his father closer to him overwhelmed with relief, and he can feel sobs rumbling his chest. “We thought you were dead. Milton… he killed… do you know?” Arthur choked out, chest rumbling with barely contained sobs now.

“I know, son. I woke up next to their bodies in the morgue.” Slowly, he rubs the back of his son comfortingly. “And when I ran into Charles out hunting, he filled me in with the rest.” There are murmurs from behind them, and Arthur pulls away to see the other gang members smiling with relief at the sight of him. “Come,” Hosea says after he notices Arthur’s gaze. “Let’s get you some food, then we can talk more.”

He’s led inside by Hosea, and everyone greets him mutely. They’re happy to see him, but the weight of John’s and Abigail’s deaths are clearly weighing on the survivors. He wishes he could help soothe the pain, but there’s nothing he can do. He’s helpless here, and it pains Arthur dearly.

Pearson sets some cooked meat and beer in front of him, and Arthur tiredly thanks him. The exhaustion of the ride, plus the surprise of Hosea being alive is already catching up to him. But he eats slowly while Hosea watches him, and the others give the two privacy.

“So, what happened?” Hosea asks when he’s halfway through the meal. “After the bank?”

“We hid on a boat after finding some abandoned building to hide in till night. Surprised we weren’t found, but I’m glad we weren’t. Then Dad spoke with the captain of the ship with some of the gold we had, and paid him for the silence and the trip.” Arthur exhaled as he leaned back having finished his meal. “Got caught in a storm, the ship sank, lost a majority of everything we stole, then washed up on Guarma.” His voice wavered slightly. “Pa, Dad, he’s… he’s changed while we were on that island.”

“How so, son?” Reaching out, Hosea placed his hand on Arthur’s knee to comfort him.

“He… There was this local woman we’re were using as a guide to get Javier. He got caught by soldiers after we escaped the first round. And well, she started demanding more gold, and all we had was the last gold bar Dad gave her,” Arthur exhaled shakily. “He grew mad, madder than I’ve ever seen him. He just… choked and kill her for no reason. Said it was because she was going to betray us, but I’m not sure about that one.” Shakily, he ran his hands through his hair. “I don’t know, Pa. I just felt so helpless to stop him because I ain’t never seen him like that. The look in his eyes… it was like looking at a mad man.”

Hosea let out a troubled sigh as Arthur finished his story. He’s not sure how he feels about Arthur just told him. Just sounded like a repeat of the Blackwater ferry. His eyes settle on Arthur’s expression, and he knows his son is thinking the same thing.

Reaching forward, he moves the long, dirty blond hair out of the way. He notes the exhaustion in Arthur’s eyes, the same he saw after days of being at the hands of Colm. But there’s something else he notices, Arthur looks more gaunt, and there’s a redness to his eyes. It worries Hosea heavily that he can’t stop himself from asking, “Arthur, are you feeling well?”

Shaking his head, Arthur replies, “I don’t know. Been feeling unwell for these past few weeks. Might have picked up something from Guarma.” He rubbed the back of his nape. “Should be fine in a couple days after some proper rest.”

“I hope so,” Hosea said softly, eyebrows knitted in worry. “I have a feeling these next few weeks are going rough.” A scoff left his chest. “If we live that long. Either way, son, get some sleep. I’ll be here when you wake.” A yawn answered him as Arthur settled into the sheets underneath him. 

Exhaling heavily, he leaned against the wall watching his last son slumber. As he sat there watching over Arthur, his mind raced like a herd of horses across the plains thinking about the gang’s future. A future he saw escaping every minute they spent in the east and not the west.


	6. Soul Within

Dutch joins the semi-rugged survivors a few days after Arthur joins them. He’s busy greeting everyone, he doesn’t notice Hosea in the shadows waiting to reveal himself.

The older man watches his lover like a hawk. He takes one long look at Dutch’s eyes, and he can see the hidden madness there. The same madness Arthur spoke about, and he can feel his heart clench at the fact. His lover has changed, and Hosea can see it. He wonders if the others will notice the change in Dutch’s eyes. Maybe they won’t.

Leaning against the wood with his hands behind his back, he notes Arthur watching him with weariness in his eyes. Hosea can’t tell if it’s because Dutch is back, or the mysterious sickness that’s bothering Arthur. Probably both. His stomach clenches at the sight either way.

He hates seeing Arthur looking the way he does. He looks worse than he did after the torture he suffered at the hands of Colm. It scares a part of Hosea he keeps hidden away from the rest of the gang. 

He’s always been the calm leader of the gang, the one the group can rely on. That face needs to stay on until he’s somewhere private to let it drop. He doesn’t want to scare the rest by looking defeated and scared for the future. Even though he is.

Then Dutch notices him hiding in the shadows. The large body goes still with shock, and he slowly walks forward with a smile on his face. His lover’s jaw opens and closes while his eyes are wide at the sight of Hosea standing before him. The younger man’s brain is trying to wrap around the fact Hosea survived even though it seemed as if he hadn’t.

Walking forward, he placed his hands on Dutch’s shaking shoulders. “I made a mistake in my calculations,” he answered Dutch’s question with a wry grin. “Too much gunpowder, and too short a fuse.” He tucks a loose strand of hair away from Dutch’s face. “In other words, I made a bomb version of you.” A pained wheezing laugh left Dutch, and Hosea went on, “And I know about John and Abigail. We buried them together.”

Dutch swallowed with a heavy nod. Hosea took him by the shoulders leading him into the small home they had made out of run down shacks.

Silently, night blanketed the surrounding area. But what didn’t come silently into Lakay was Bill Williamson. He slammed the door open, and half-shouted, “Well, here you are! I’ve been asking around everywhere just to find you all.” He looked at Sadie. “Get me a coffee, will ya?”

“Go get your own coffee,” she scoffed. Bill opened his mouth only to be interrupted by Dutch.

“Missus Alder has been a great help to everyone while we’ve been gone,” Dutch said eying the man. “So, do as the lady asks.” There was a low growl in his throat that Hosea rarely heard used on any of the gang members. He wasn’t sure if he agreed with its use this time.

Bill let out a frustrated groan before trudging over the coffee pot. He grumbled something, but no one cared to listen to it. He felt a presence next to him, and he saw Arthur and Charles standing next to him. The two men inclined their heads at him but said nothing as they waited for Dutch to say anything. However, all they heard was him telling everyone to get some rest. He’ll have something in the morning for them.

But any thought of rest was broken by the shout of voice Hosea could have gone without hearing again. “Dutch van der Linde!” Agent Milton shouted, and they all moved to see him surrounded by several agents.

“Where the hell do they get all these guys from?” Lenny hissed glancing at Arthur as he did. Something Hosea wondered too.

“I don’t know,” his son replied with a shake of his head.

“I’ve given you several chances to come forward to spare the lives of your people. Every time you’ve shunned that. So, I will no longer extend any deals to you,” Milton said. His back was straight and his shoulders back. “To commemorate this, I have a present for you.”

Gunfire pierced the old boards of the shack. He heard Mary-beth scream, and Jack let out a cry. Several of the men cursed, and Sadie whispered to Arthur for him to follow her. He didn’t know what the two were planning, but Hosea kept his head down while sparing glances at Dutch.

He stared back with eyes angry and shoulders tensed. The other man was clearly unhappy with the situation they were in, but it was hard for any of them to fire back at the group. 

The Pinkertons had come prepared with a maxim gun preventing them from getting good shots in. Milton had factored in Dutch’s, Arthur’s, and Hosea’s abilities with guns. Of course, he hadn't known that there was a way for them to shoot back.

He heard another group of doors burst open followed by Arthur’s shouting voice. The sound of a repeater firing followed, and the sound of the Pinkerton’s fire was partly redirected. It gave them a chance to get up and fire back. A chance to fight that they hadn’t before. He’d have to thank Sadie again for saving their hides so well.

The Pinkertons flee from the returned fire as their numbers dwindle. Smalls amounts of relief can be felt from the group as a whole when they do. For a short time, the gang will have some breathing room. But they need to leave soon.

“Bill, Javier!” Dutch shouts. “Go follow them to make sure they’re gone. Missus Adler, Arthur?” he asks turning to the two. The pair look at him with questioning stares. “Thank you for saving us.”

“Of course,” Arthur wheezed as he moved from the wagon. Dry coughing squeezed from Arthur’s chest after he hit the ground. Hosea’s eyebrows knitted in worry at the sight of his son coughing so hard. But he pauses seeing Dutch’s face turn from worried to neutral quickly.

“We owe Missus Alder quite a bit,” he went on. He could see his legs shaking, but Arthur was clearly also trying to downplay how weak he was. Whether they don’t want to worry the gang or they wanted to pretend Arthur was feeling well, Hosea didn’t know. He could only hope that Arthur would see a doctor soon while they were still near Saint Denis. Somehow he had a feeling he was going to have to drag Arthur in.

Swallowing, Hosea watched Arthur trudge forward on shaky legs. He hated the sight already. It reminded him of the days after his capture at Colm’s hands, and the days after he had lost Eliza and Issac. How lost Arthur seemed to be, and how weak his body felt.

An exhale left him, and he could see his breath in the air. He had a gut feeling this wasn’t going to be good. And it didn’t matter whether he was referring to the gang or Arthur’s health now. Everything was going wrong faster now. If Blackwater had been the gang’s falling point, then Saint Denis was the final blow to its health. All Hosea could do now is watch the train wreck they had become fail to stop.

Dutch’s voice startled him from his thoughts. “Everyone, get some rest. And Arthur, I want to speak to you tomorrow.” The man glanced around the area. “The Pinkertons are going to regroup in a few days. We need to leave as soon as possible. And find a new place to hide.”

“Right,” Arthur mumbled walking over to Hosea. Exhaustion hid under the surface of his son’s eyes. Gently, he grabbed Arthur by the shoulders and led him inside.

“Come on, let’s get some rest,” Hosea murmured never seeing Dutch go up to Micah. Never hearing their words, and Micah occasionally peering at the two.


	7. Not Worthy

The next morning was far muggier than Hosea would have liked, but he couldn’t complain too much. It was far better than being dead or caught by the law he supposed. But he could certainly do without the mugginess either way.

Scratching the back of his neck, Hosea smiled at Tilly who passed him by with a small bucket of water. She returned his smile with one of her own, before disappearing around the corner. He gazed where she had been before spying Dutch on the porch of another shack. 

Exhaling heavily, he trudged through the slippery mud, and towards the man so they could plan together. But when he grew closer, he could hear Micah speaking low and slow, like he was trying to convince Dutch of something. He leaned against the wall peeking around the corner where he saw Micah holding out his hands.

“I’m just saying, Dutch,” Micah drawled slowly. “I think there’s a rat in the gang.” Hosea’s heart skipped a bit. He had thought there might be one, but he hadn’t been able to figure out who it had been. “And I, uh, hate to say it, but I think Old Hosea’s speaking.” He nearly growled at the poison-laced words that tumbled out of Micah’s mouth.

The chair Dutch sat in screeched across the wood, and he hears footsteps. “Don’t you dare suggest such a thing,” Dutch growled low and deep. “Hosea’s been here longer than you, Micah. And he’s been loyal, always has been.”

A knife could have cut the tension in the air. It made Hosea suck in some air as he continued to listen. He should emerge from the shadows and meet Micah head-on, yet he can’t bring himself to do it. The sound of Micah’s boots shuffling away from Dutch bring him from his thoughts.

“I’m just saying, Dutch. Hosea survived when John and Abigail didn’t.”

“He was unconscious.”

“Supposedly, he was. After it could be a lie. He’s been a con man his entire life, boss,” Micah said, his voice oozing with fake sincerity. “Lies slip out of him like rain from the clouds. Not to mention, at Horseshoe, he was very vocal about people to start thinking about leaving. It could have been a show up till now.” Hosea’s jaw clenched and rage bubbled in his chest. He wanted to punch to Micah, but it wouldn’t serve him well beyond relieving his anger.

A long exhausted exhale comes from Dutch. “Micah,” he says tiredly. “Go do a chore or keep watch. I don’t hear any more of this from your mouth. Got it?”

“Yes, boss.” Hosea can hear the sauntering footsteps of Micah headed this way, and he squares his shoulders. He exchanges stares with the rat-faced bastard, and the man dares to send him a smirk that makes Hosea’s blood simmer with anger. His teeth chew on the side of his cheek to keep a snide remark from leaving his chest.

Turning, he heads towards Dutch who’s clearly sitting in the chair again. Gently, he rests his hands on his lover’s shoulder. “Morning Dutch,” he greets keeping his voice steady. As if he hadn’t heard Micah floating the idea of him turning traitor. “How’d you sleep last night, dearest?” Dutch rests his head against Hosea’s stomach sighing.

“Admittedly, darling, I haven’t been sleeping well since Guarma. Since I thought… thought I lost you. And with John’s and Abigail’s deaths…” Dutch waved his hand in the air, and Hosea can feel the exhaustion radiating off of him. It hurts him to see Dutch looking so ragged. “But seeing alive has made me feel happier since the robbery.”

“That’s good,” Hosea mumbled. He doesn’t bother to try and placate Dutch with false hopes of getting out of the situation they’re in. He simply presses a kiss to the top of Dutch’s head and feels him tense underneath his action. That alone makes Hosea want to find Micah, and yell at the man for putting such ideas in Dutch’s head. He doesn’t because he hears Arthur’s footsteps slowly walk up to him.


	8. With Me

Exhaustion is following Arthur around like a dog. Anyone who looks at Arthur for longer than a few minutes could see it. The last few days haven’t been easy on his son. The redness in his eyes has grown along with the coughing fits Hosea’s been hearing at night. He wonders if Dutch has been hearing it too.

He manages a smile for his last living son but both of them know it’s a weak one. The smile doesn’t match his eyes or the situation they’re in. It’s hard to smile after everything that’s happened lately. And Hosea can’t help but feel like he can’t keep the gang together like he’s been able to before.

Arthur glances at Dutch before clearing his throat. “So, Dad, you have a place for us, or should we send someone out?” Dutch shakes his head no.

“No, but I know we need to go north, son.” Hosea can’t help but note the slight tremor of Dutch’s finger pointing north. He’s afraid, and just barely keeping it together. That worries Hosea immensely, but now isn’t the time to comment on that. They need to leave Lakay first. “They’ve chased us east, west, and south. So that leaves north.”

Arthur exhales exhaustedly, and Hosea notes the look in his eyes. His last son’s faith in Dutch has started to fracture fully. Hosea had seen the changes during Colter and Horseshoe, but they hadn’t started to appear until after Arthur’s stay with Colm. The dam is starting to crack completely now after everything that's recently happened.

And yet he can’t blame Arthur for feeling this way. He feels this way, no, has been feeling this way since Blackwater. And now the train they’ve been riding since is on its way to derailing, and Hosea can nothing but hold and hope the best. The survivors won’t follow him away from Dutch, he knows that. They still have plenty of faith in the man.

“Do we have plan?” Arthur said through a sigh. He walked closer to Dutch. “Do you have a plan?” A heavy hand slams against the top of the rail.

“I have a god damn plan, Arthur. Now have some faith!” he hissed, the venom in his voice startling both men. “We will get through this, just as we’ve gotten through everything else. Just. Have. Faith.” Dutch turned to stare at Arthur as he said this. It gave Hosea a chance to look into Dutch’s eyes, and he swore they seemed darker. Something in Hosea’s stomach twists pulls in worry.

There’s a sigh on Arthur’s lips, but he holds back glancing down to the side. Tense seconds pass before Arthur turns on his heel and walks off saying no more. Hosea squeezes Dutch’s tensed up shoulders, but the man doesn’t seem to notice the action. Just goes back to staring out at the swamp making Hosea worry more. Hosea squeezes his shoulders again.

“He’s probably just worried about everyone, dearest. I’ll go talk to him.” There’s no response from Dutch. Again it’s like the man has never heard him. There are another twist and pull of butterflies deep in Hosea’s stomach. Both Arthur and Dutch aren’t acting like they normally would. He wonders how much the fail bank robbery and Guarma have changed them. He imagines he’ll find out soon.

Stepping away after no response, Hosea glances around the camp for Arthur. He sees him standing next to a building, cigarette in mouth, and arms folded over his chest. An annoyed sigh leaves him before he can stop it, but he just shakes his head before walking over to him. Tapping his arm, Hosea gestures for Arthur to follow him a little ways away from camp. He knows it’s a bad idea with Micah touting him as a traitor, but he rather people not overhear them.

Opening his mouth to speak, wet heavy coughs fill the air, and it sounds Arthur's lungs are going to collapse from how hard he's coughing. Moving forward, he steadies the younger man seeing the shaking in his knees.

But when he sees blood drip from Arthur’s mouth, his heart drops.


	9. Hear You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> : )

It’s a painful few seconds before Arthur can speak again. Soft wheezes slip from his throat as he regains his breath. Gently, Hosea places his hand on the upper part of Arthur’s arm. “Arthur, are you alright?” he murmurs, concern heavy in his voice.

“I’m fine,” Arthur wheezed back with a shake of his head. He didn’t sound fine at all. He sounded as if the very air he breathed had been stolen from him.

“I don’t believe you, Art,” Hosea replied nudging him to the horses. “You sound like hell. Let’s get you checked out in Saint Denis while we’re still here.” Arthur opened his mouth, but Hosea pushed him forward again. “It’s been a few months since we’ve been in the city, both of us. And with how many visitors the city gets, I highly doubt someone will put two and two together.”

“Alright.” Begrudgingly, his son mounts his horse, and Hosea follows on Saint Denis. They never see Micah with his eyes on them watching them leave.

The ride is silent for a few minutes before Hosea asks the words on his mind. “So, what do you think of the situation we’re in now that everyone still alive is back?” Arthur glanced at him before glancing down at the horn of his saddle with a sigh.

“I don’t know, Pa. I’m worried though.” He glanced around them. “Dad, he seems… he seems even more… crazy…” Arthur paused to scratch his chin nervously. “Like, he’s on the edge of just going crazy.” Hosea nodded slowly and thoughtfully.

“I know what you mean.” They crossed into the city proper headed towards the doctor’s office. “But we’ll speak more of it outside the city.” The older man couldn’t help but look around quickly. There was still some worry rock bottom in his gut. “Don’t need people hearing.”

“’Course.”

The father-son pair rode in silence till they reached the doctor’s office. No one had commented on their appearance, nor connected them to the van der Linde gang. Those facts alone almost had Hosea calmer until another coughing fit racked Arthur’s body so badly he fell from his horse.

“Fenton!” he half-yelled seeing his son fall. A passerby pauses to help Arthur up as he ties their horses to the post. “Thank you,” he murmurs taking Arthur’s arm. The man smiles politely before he and Arthur disappear into the doctor’s off.

“Can I help you?” A woman’s voice asked, and Hosea turned his head form Arthur to her.

“Yes, my son needs to see the doctor soon. Please.” He tries to keep his voice steady, but it still wavers a little. Arthur’s fingers squeeze his arm gently in a comforting manner. Even in his weakened state, Arthur cares more for him than himself.

“Of course,” she replied ringing the bell. The door next to them opens revealing a man with glasses. He takes in Arthur’s appearance quickly before ushering them through the door. Hosea steadies Arthur as they walk, he can see that his son’s legs are a little unsteady from falling off his horse earlier.

“Right, take a seat there.” He points to the chair before grabbing a few things from a counter. Hosea leans against a cabinet, arms crossed and watching warily. Arthur settles into the chair just as the doctor takes a seat next to him. “So, what are the symptoms?”

“Uh, I’m coughing a lot. Feels like my lungs are on fire.” A slow nod from the doctor.

“Uh huh. Is there any blood?” Hosea swallows at the question without thinking. Worry hums through his veins as he waits for Arthur’s answer.

“Sometimes,” Arthur admits. The doctor hums before telling him to open his mouth. He peeks in before grabbing the stethoscope and telling Arthur to inhale and exhale. Tense seconds pass as Arthur repeats the actions at the doctor’s commands.

The doctor frowns for a second before wrapping it around his neck. He exhales, and Arthur leans forward a bit. “So?”

“You got tuberculosis, son.” Hosea feels as if his own air has been stolen from him the moment the word slips from the doctor’s mouth. Shock slowly moves through Arthur’s face. “I’m sorry, it’s a hell of a thing.”


	10. Through It All

Slowly, the news finally slithers through his and Arthur’s bodies. 

Tuberculosis.

Somehow and somewhere, Arthur has picked up the deadly disease. And glance to the side tells him that Arthur is trying his figure how and when he would have picked it up. Hosea’s going to lose another son to something he can’t heal, and he doesn’t know when.

“I see,” Arthur says, voice sounding clipped and exhausted. He moves to stand weakly, but the doctor gently pushes him down.

“Here, let me give you something so you’ll have a little more energy today.” The man grabs a syringe and injects Arthur. A grunt sounds from his son before he pulls out some money.

“Thanks, doctor,” he whispered hoarsely before putting his hat back on and heading out. He can see the doctor open his mouth to say something, but Hosea has a feeling its advice they can’t heed. Not with the way everything is going. So he leaves quietly behind Arthur, chest hurting from the news he’s received.

Arthur’s standing by the horses staring off in the distance when Hosea leaves the office. He wishes he could offer his son comfort, but what can he really do but sit and watch his son waste away? Even if they left the gang, Arthur would prolong his life for so long.

Briefly, he wonders what Dutch would think of the news before slamming the door shut on the idea. He already knows it wouldn’t be a good idea with the state of mind Dutch seems lost in.

Placing a hand on his back, Hosea sees Arthur turn to him. There’s a distant look in his eyes still. Pain taps his heart at the sight. “Come on,” he says softly. “Let’s get out of this stuffy city.” The words bring a small smile to his son, and his heart rejoices at the small sight.

“We need to chat, and camp ain’t safe. I don’t know who to trust right now,” Arthur answers slipping from the saddle and tying his horse to a post. He walks to the edge of the small dock while Hosea dismounts and follows.

“Yes, you’re right,” Hosea replies sitting next to him. “But first things, this…”

“I know.” Arthur scratches the back of his neck. “I didn’t get it from Guarma, Pa. Got it from one of the debtors Strauss had me beat up.” A low hiss came from Hosea’s mouth followed by a curse.

“I should have never agreed to those!” he growled low. “I knew it was a bad idea, and yet I went along with it.” The anger deflated as quick as it came, and he turned a sorrowful gaze to his last son. “I’m sorry, Arthur.”

“Weren’t your idea, Pa.”

“No, but I should have objected to it more strongly.” Hosea sighed glancing out at the river lapping the shores. “”So, what are you going to do, Arthur?”

“Gonna get as many people out as I can. We both know this ain’t gonna end well.” Arthur shook his head before taking his hat off and running through the blond strands. “I can’t get the look on Dutch’s face when he strangled that lady. He looked like a man undone.” Arthur’s palms shook visibly resting against his legs. “He seems far quicker to anger, like… like he’s not himself anymore, Pa.”

“Yeah,” Hosea agreed, a sigh leaving him. “I’ve noticed. It kills me, but I’ve noticed.” He glances out at the water. “And it’s not just him, Arthur. I overheard Micah speaking to him. Floating the idea I’m a traitor to the gang.”

An angry growl left Arthur’s mouth. “What?” he hissed, venom coating his words. Hosea’s quick to place a hand on Arthur’s leg to calm him. He holds a stare with the younger man until it’s clear he’s going to bolt back to camp and beat the shit out of the other man.

“There’s nothing we can do until we’ve moved camps, Arthur.” Hosea keeps his gaze steady still. “Infighting in Lakay will just get us all killed, son.” Arthur closes his eyes while exhaling from his nose. “I know, I want to punch him myself, but now is not the time. We can plan against him when everyone has been moved, and we need evidence. It seems clear that my word, and yours, may not be enough for Dutch.”

“Alright,” Arthur agrees hesitantly. “I don’t like it, but if that’s what we have to do for now.”

“It is, son.” Hosea stood and held his hand out to Arthur who took it allowing him to pull him up. “Now, let’s ride back to camp. You get Charles and go north to find us a new home. Then we plot, alright?” His son nodded firmly before the two of them unhitched their horses and headed back to camp.


	11. Feel You

Beaver Hollow is one of the last places Hosea ever wants to be in. The air was tense and contained an evil chill the crept up the spines of everyone present, no doubt a product of the blood spilled by the Murfree Brood. An air also supported by the tense coil of fear and anger swirling around the gang as well.

But a shrill Irish voice breaks the air into confusion. Everyone turns to see Molly O’Shea being led into camp by Uncle. Her face is flushed and her walk is unsteady. And as Hosea grows closer with Arthur beside him, he can smell the alcohol on her breath.

“So, Dutch, did you miss me?” she slurred strutting towards the man, who has Micah behind him. Hosea and Arthur share a look before getting even closer.

“You’re back, Miss O’Shea,” Dutch replied coolly. “Back and drunk.”

“It’s Molly, you sack of shit!” She stumbled around looking at everyone as she did. “I won’t be ignored! I aren’t him,” she gestured to Hosea, “or her!” Another gesture to Mary-Beth.

“Calm down, miss!” Dutch tried, but Molly couldn’t be persuaded to calm down.

“I have God’s ear, Dutch! I told them!” Everyone stilled visibly at the confession pouring from Molly’s lips.

“Who did you tell?” Dutch hissed, anger covering his face.

“Mister Milton and Mister Ross…” she replied while ranting more and oblivious to the murderous expression on Dutch’s face. Spinning around to face him, she declared, “And I wanted them to kill you! I loved you, you bastard!” She spat in his face, and Hosea felt his eyes close in response.

Mixed emotions curled in his chest, and he wasn’t sure how to respond to them. However, despite his feelings, the last thing he needed was Dutch to murder another woman in a fit of rage. Not now with everything going on. Yet he feels no desire to speak up either.

Micah has already flirted the idea of Hosea being a rat, and Hosea knows speaking up for Molly won’t help his case. Not when she’s confessed to ratting on them. Exhaling, he opens his eyes to see Dutch with his pistol pulled out, and Arthur and a couple of others looking to him for leadership. Something he can’t give them right now. His feelings are far too muddy to even move.

He stares at Dutch and notes how dark his eyes are with anger. How he seems poised to strike out at Molly like a snake. Fingertips pull him away from the sight, and he sees Arthur looking at him with questioning eyes. But he has no answers for his son. The only answer is the shotgun blast that thunders through the group shocking everyone.

Heads turn to see Susan cocking the shotgun and a spent bullet leaving the chamber. Silence has wrapped itself around the group, before Susan looks them all in the eye and says, “She knew the rules. And so do you.” Her gaze turns to Pearson and Bill. “Get this body out of here and get it burnt.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Bill mutters helping Pearson collect her body and take it away.

Exhaling loudly, Hosea steps away from the group and he can feel Arthur walking behind him. “What was that Pa?” he hisses when they’re away from the rest of the gang. “Why didn’t you stop Susan or Dutch, Pa? She was drunk and not thinking straight.”

“I don’t know, Arthur,” Hosea said after moments of silence. He moved towards the edge of the camp and placed his hands behind his back. Arthur followed behind him, the silent questions following. “I couldn’t bring myself to intervene nor did I want Miss O’Shea to die.” He gazed at his son with a disturbed expression. Arthur exhaled loudly through his nose as he closed his eyes.

“Guess I can’t speak about it either,” Arthur mumbled looking off to the side. “I sure as hell didn’t try to stop them.” He squinted for a second. “Oh joy. Micah’s speaking with Dutch again. And he’s looking over here.” Hosea bit the inside of his cheek holding back a sigh.

“We’ll have to find some way to draw him out,” Hosea said tightly, his gaze on the land across the river. “Figure out what he’s planning, ‘cause I have no idea, and I imagine you don’t.” Arthur shook his head. “Figured as much. However, for all his faults, he’s not completely dumb sadly. It’d be great if he just left proof laying around.”

“Well, these next few days, hell weeks even, are going to be interesting. No idea how they’ll play out.”

“Yeah. We’re just going to have to take it one day at a time, Arthur.” He glanced over to Arthur again. “That’s all we can do.”


	12. Through It All

Hosea supposes he should be happy he doesn’t have a grand plan all figured out when he sees the look on Arthur’s face coming back into camp. There’s a mix of anger and disbelief in his eyes and posture as his son strides towards him. Hosea tilts his head in a silent question.

“He killed him,” Arthur said flatly.

“What?”

“He shot Cornwall.” Arthur snuck a quick glance at Dutch who spoke to Micah near his tent. “Wasn’t no damn social call. Just an excuse to kill him,” he spat before placing his hands in front of him. “Got into another damn gunfight we didn’t need too.”

Sighing heavily, Hosea rubbed his face wondering how Dutch could do something so stupid? All the love and trust he had for Dutch ripples and shatters like a thousand pieces of glass. It feels as if Bessie has died all over again, and the floor has been ripped from underneath him.

“Pa, I’m so—” Hosea held his hand up.

“It’s alright, Arthur,” he said sitting down on Arthur’s cot. He placed his head in his hands wondering how anything went so wrong so quickly. The cot shudders from Arthur joining him, and silence feels the air with both men not knowing how to feel or even what to say.

They sit in this silence until Susan sees them and wanders over. “You boys alright?” she asks, and two heavy sighs respond. “What’s wrong, Hosea? Arthur?”

Lifting his head, he replied, “Dutch shot Cornwall in the middle of Annesburg.” He threaded his fingers together. “The final death blow to the gang because now the Pinkertons are going to be heavily pressured into finding us. Doesn’t matter who’s pressuring them either. Cornwall’s family, the government, or the public at large.” He glances around the camp with a shake of his head.

“Dutch will get us out of this, Hosea. You just need to have—”

“No, Susan,” Hosea replied, firmly leveling a heavy stare at her. “You know the end is coming. Has been since Dutch decided to rob the Blackwater Ferry, and Cornwall for that matter. The gang is in its final days, and we can either wait and die with Dutch because they’ll be gunning for us, or we can—” 

A loud coughing fit from Arthur interrupts him, and Susan and he glance over to see Arthur trying to hide the fact he’s coughing up blood. Arthur waved his hand shakily trying to wave them off. “I’m alright,” he wheezed, lungs sounded even worse than yesterday.

“No, you aren’t, Arthur,” Susan chided grabbing a rag off Arthur’s nightstand to dab at the blood at Arthur’s mouth. She squints at him before her expression softens completely. “You’re coughing up blood, Art. Have you seen a doctor?”

“Yeah,” Arthur whispered. He dropped his head forward allowing the brim of his hat to cover his eyes from showing whatever emotion was there. Hosea slung his arm around Arthur and pulled him close. He takes off Arthur’s hat so his son can rest his head against his shoulder. Susan looks between them feeling a silent answer that neither one wants to answer aloud.

However, a soft snore comes from Arthur’s chest, and Susan gives him a pointed look. “Hosea, what’s wrong with him? People don’t go coughing up blood for no reason.”

“Tuberculosis,” he replies softly watching Susan’s expression turn sorrowful.

“How?”

“Debt collecting near Horseshoe,” he replied. “One of the debtors had it, and Arthur caught it. We’re sure it probably wasn’t intentional, but it’s hard to know. The man is dead from Arthur’s beating, so we can’t ask.”

“I see,” she says softly placing a hand on Arthur’s head. Hosea watches a tear slip from her eyes, but he doesn’t mention it.


	13. Nothing Left At All

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)

Several days pass, and Hosea finds himself leaning over the table in Dutch’s tent while butting heads with the man over plans. Exhaling, he notes Arthur and Micah glowering at each other quietly while they argue. “What plan?” he asks, returning his gaze to Dutch.

The man’s head jolts back a bit, and Hosea swears he sees the image of feathers being rustled. “A plan to make noise and money. That’s all we need besides faith, Hosea!” Dutch snarled and he felt rage bubbling in his chest.

“What faith should we have in you, Dutch?” he hissed back watching the other man’s eyes widened in response. Hosea jabbed his finger at him. “You told me you were going to pay Cornwall a small visit to try and get him off our backs. Not kill the damn man and put even more heat on us! Did you not learn from going after Bronte that the more heat you put on us, the worse things get for us?” Dutch’s mouth opened leaving him looking like a fish. “We’ve lost John and Abigail, and now we’re on the verge of losing more people!”

Two hands slammed down on the desk in response, and Dutch lunged forward. “I did what I had to do!” he spat, eyes darkening with pure rage. “And it’s Cornwall’s fault for their deaths! It was the right thing to do, Hosea.” It was Hosea’s turn to let his jaw drop. “Now, all we need is noise and money, and then we’ll be free!”

“No, it wasn’t his fault, Dutch!” Hosea spat back, fingers curling against the wood. “It’s because we robbed that damn train as I told you we shouldn’t have. And not just the train, Dutch! That wagon near Rhodes? That was Cornwall’s too! Now, we have John’s and Abigail’s blood on our hands as a result of our mistakes! We can never wash their blood away, and to top it all off, we’ve gone and made Jack an orphan! We both swore we’d never do that!”

This time Dutch’s head jolts back even more with a snarl more prominent on his face. Hushed whispers sound around the tent, and out of the corner of his eyes, he can see the gang standing around glancing at the two of them, and each other. Dutch opens his mouth to speak, but Micah cuts him off.

“That’s rich coming from you, old man,” Micah lazily speaks. He tucks his thumbs into his belt. “After all, who’s to say you aren’t the rat, you did survive the Bank robbery when the other two didn’t.” Disgust makes its way onto his face while tension crept around the edges of the camp.

“Shut up, Micah,” Arthur snapped back.

“How about I don’t, cowpoke,” Micah shot back. He points at Hosea. “He’s been telling people to leave since Horseshoe.” He turns to Dutch with a creepy smile. “Maybe that’s why we’ve been losing folks, Dutch.” Dutch’s face flickers with several emotions, and Micah takes that second to dare get in Hosea’s face. “Maybe you’re the rat that’s been haunting us for a while now. It’d make sense, after all, no one would suspect you, old man.”

The tension that crept around the camp is now in full force. The dullest of knife blades could cut tense energy in the air. “Micah,” Arthur growled lowly, “explain yourself.”

Micah’s grin grew wider. “Why should I? It’s clear as day to me.” Fast as a wolf, Arthur lunges at Micah, a low snarl coming from his throat. Their bodies collide with a smack, and dust rises as they fall onto the ground. Watching bewilderment, no one moves as the two fight.

Even in his sickened state, Arthur is winning the match against Micah. Although he’s lost some muscle and weight, it’s clear he knows how to fight better than the other man. His fists are measured and thought out, while Micah fights like a scavenger rather than a fighter. And while he can get some punches in on Arthur, they’re barely felt by him.

But, his sickened state reminds Arthur that he’s not in the best position to fight like he once had. A coughing fit breaks his swing allowing Micah to seize the upper hand as he rails on Arthur with uncontrolled glee. Hosea can no longer watch.

“God damn it, Micah!” he yelled grabbing the other man by his shoulders and tugging hard. The younger man stumbles back wildly, and Hosea turns his glare to Dutch only to be pushed back by Micah.

“Get off me, old man!” he hissed landing a punch into Hosea’s gut. A wheeze leaves him, and out of the corner of his eye, Hosea sees Dutch pull out his pistol. The action sets off a chain reaction from the entire gang as more guns are pulled, and sides are taken. Hosea, Lenny, Arthur, Charles, and Sadie standing on one side, Dutch, Micah, Bill, and Javier on another. The rest of the gang watches fearfully conflicted.

Dutch’s eyes flicker wildly between the people standing with Hosea. “Betrayal,” he finally hisses. “After everything, you two go on and betray me?” He gestures at Hosea and Arthur with the tip of his barrel.

“Betray you, Dutch?” Hosea repeated, shock going down to his core. “Neither one of us has betrayed you! All these years, Dutch, we’ve been loyal, but you’ve changed since coming back from Guarma!”

“I’ve changed? I’ve _changed?_ ” Dutch spat back out, outrage coloring his tone and body. His eyes blazed with fury. “I haven’t changed, Hosea! I’ve been pushing the gang forward over these past few months, and you haven’t. You have continuously doubted me, and encouraged people to leave instead of staying just like Micah has said. How can I believe you when you no longer have my back?”

“You’ve been refusing to listen, Dutch! Refusing to see the world is changing, and people like us aren’t wanted anymore! Instead of lowering our presence and making money, so we can get out of here, and back west, all you’ve done is loud jobs that only put more light on us!” Hosea growled.

“Only I’ve doing loud jobs? That’s bullshit, Hosea. I remember the Braithwraithes and Grey families was mostly your work, and you failed to get us any amount of money from the bastards! The only thing that happened was Jack was kidnapped, and we lost Sean! We were lucky to even get Jack back!” Dutch’s hands shook slightly as he kept his aim on their group. “And the Saint Denis job was yours! And look at where that got us!” He waved his hand around gesturing at Beaver Hollow as a whole.

Gritting his teeth, a pang of hurt flew through Hosea. He had never imagined hearing those words from Dutch. But he couldn’t argue completely against the points Dutch had made either. It was his mistakes that had hurt the gang leaving a hole he couldn’t fix like he had been able to before.

“Yes, I screwed up,” Hosea started but was quickly interrupted by Micah.

“Screwed up? You did more than that,” he accused. “Lots of our jobs went wrong when they shouldn’t have.” Micah licked his bottom lip staring at Hosea. “You still haven’t shown any proof that you’re not a rat, Matthews. Why should Dutch believe you? Why should any of us believe you?”

“He ain’t a rat for seeing that the world is changing, Micah!” Arthur wheezed out. 

“Shut up, cowpoke! You live in the clouds. The world is changing, but we can adapt. You and the old man have been refusing to do so! Dragging us all down with you!”

Arthur swore next to him, and Micah smiled predatory. Hosea felt as the more Micah talked, the more he could visible doubt crawling into Dutch. Turning him away from the man he once knew, and into a stranger he was starting to loathe. Arthur yelled out something next to him, and Micah shot back with something else. Hosea didn’t listen as he watched Dutch look between the two men searching for something. That something he wasn’t sure what it was, and that scared him.

But whatever it was, Dutch had found it, and his gun fired stunning everyone into silence. Because when they looked to where he had shot, blood was staining Arthur’s shirt, turning it from blue to a dark red in a matter of seconds.


	14. Don't Let me Go

Shock swirls around the gang as they see blood darkening Arthur’s blue shirt. No one can believe that Dutch has shot Arthur, but when his shaky fingers unbutton his shirt, the proof is there clear as day. The blood is pouring out of his wound quickly, and Arthur looks over to Dutch with a betrayed expression. “Dad… you… you shot me,” he said before collapsing to the ground.

Those who had been conflicted before now move away from Dutch, even Javier who shakes his head as he moves. Hosea and Susan drop to their knees trying to stop the bleeding, but the blood is coming too quickly. Dutch’s bullet has hit a fatal spot in Arthur’s stomach, and they can see the light in Arthur’s eyes fade out before they can do anything more than watch.

Dutch watches in shock, his body still as Hosea lunges from the ground in a fury. The older man grips the collar of Dutch’s shirt yelling, “You killed him! You killed our son, Dutch!” Spit lands on Dutch’s face, but his eyes are locked onto Arthur’s body. “Damn you, Dutch van der Linde! Damn you to hell!”

Susan moves to get those who have sided with Hosea packing. It’s clear to them there’s no point in staying if Dutch is going to shot someone so loyal to him for seemingly no reason. Bill and Micah urge him quietly to leave Beaver Hollow while they have a chance, but the man does nothing but sink to his knees watching the group drag Arthur’s body away. He won’t get to see him be buried after his irrational decision to shoot the man he considered a son.

The wagons leave him, and the other two, behind watching unsure of what to do. Neither Bill nor Micah had considered that Dutch would ever shoot Arthur the way he did in the confusion of the argument. It seemed foreign, even to Micah, that Dutch would do such a thing.

Perhaps if Arthur had clearly betrayed the gang, Dutch might have shot him without the others leaving, but because there was no proof outlined, the others saw it as nothing but pure murder.

The wagons creaked along with the forest sounds as the group silently traveled down the road. Charles had already found a spot where they could bury Arthur where he would have wanted. He had passed by it to and from camp to the Wapiti reservation. A sweet thought for something no one was sure would happen until it did. Hosea had thanked Charles for it.

They’re just about to head north from Butcher’s Creek when they ran into someone they would have not liked to have run into. The groups pause to stare at each other, both having not expected to see the other so soon. Milton searched their gazes and frowned heavily.

“Agent Milton,” Hosea said breaking the silence with sadness in his tone.

“Hosea Matthews, back from the dead I see,” Milton replied with an arched eyebrow. “I can’t say I was expecting to see you and the rest of these people.” His agents shifted in their saddles waiting for orders. “Where’s van der Linde and Morgan? I would have expected to see them with you.”

Hosea’s face fell, and he gestures to the back of the wagon where Arthur’s body peacefully lies for the time being. “Van der Linde,” he replied, and noted the way Milton shifted in his saddle surprised by his usage of Dutch’s last name, “is at Beaver Hollow up the road with Williamson and Bell. Arthur is behind me. Dead.” Both of Milton’s eyebrows raised. “Agent Milton. I know you said no more deals, but I would like to make at least one more. Allow us to bury Arthur, and let me say goodbyes, and then I will travel willingly to Saint Denis to be hanged in place of everyone else. Many of the people here have grown tired of the constant running and hiding, and would like to move on from the gang.”

The agent seems to give it some thought before he nudges his horse forward. Everyone watches slightly tense as he parks his horse next to the wagon. Carefully, he reaches in to uncover Arthur and feels for a pulse. He pulls away seconds later, before staring at Hosea searching for any of his trademark lies. Finding none, he nods. “Very well.” He points at Ross. “Take some men to arrest or kill those three. I don’t care which, although alive is good if you can him that way. I’m going to allow them to bury Morgan and allow Mister Matthews his chance at saying goodbye.”

Ross nods before taking off with half the agent’s group. The rest take formation around the ex-gang members. Hosea snaps the reins against the rumps of the drafts, and the mismatched group moves forward with a tentative peace surrounding them.

A couple hours finds them later at the spot Charles found. Hosea takes in the chance to look around before nodding with approval. “This is an excellent spot, Charles. Thank you for leading us here.”

“Of course,” the man replies grabbing a shovel with Lenny, Javier, and Sadie. The three of them dig a hole as quickly as they can before Arthur’s body is collected and placed in. Hosea places seeds of some flowers he found nearby and whispers to the ground, “I’ll be with you soon, my son. Wait for me.” Pulling away, he allows the others to say their peace to Arthur’s grave before he speaks up again.

“I know many of you don’t want to leave me behind, but I am pleading with you to keep your heads down, and make the best of what time you have left.” Several of the gang open their mouths to protest, but he holds of his hands, palms towards them. “Please. Give yourself a chance to move on from this life while you actually have one. Don’t do something to stupid to save an old man such as myself.”

The group settles a bit from his words, but he can tell they’re not completely happy. Jack bolts forward to give him one last hug, and Hosea wishes he could give him advice, but no words come out. Simply, he presses a kiss to his grandson’s forehead before guiding him towards Susan. 

“Now go. Milton will keep his promise.”

“So long as you keep your heads down, and commit no crimes anytime soon, I have no reason to chase you down. I can announce you as missing, and with van der Linde, Morgan, and Matthews all dead, then my superiors will be happy with the results,” Milton said keeping his eyes on the group. “So take Mister Matthews’ advice and run from here. We’ll have no reason to chase you.”

The group begins to leave, and head down the trail towards Valentine, but they note Charles stays behind. He stares at Milton before commenting, “I’m going to stay long enough to make Arthur a headstone. He should be allowed that much. Is that fine with you, agent?”

“I see nothing wrong with it,” the agent replied before turning his gaze to Hosea. There’s a silent command on his lips, and Hosea sighs handing his pistols to him.

“Thank you again, Charles,” Hosea says mounting Silver Dollar before following Milton and his agents down the path they came. Silent minutes crawl by before Milton speaks again.

“What happened?” he asked as they walked down the paths. Deer that had come back scattered at the sight of them again.

“Dutch shot him,” Hosea replied with a clipped tone. “Shot my son.” He doesn’t miss the disturbed expression on Milton’s face, because even he knew how loyal Arthur had been to Dutch.


	15. Ashes of Eden

Passing from the fields of Saint Denis into the city proper, Hosea feels a question on his tongue. Turning, he glances at Milton who has been riding next to him the entire time. The man raises his eyebrow in a silent question, and Hosea feels he can ask his question. “I was hoping you… would be willing to bury me next to Arthur. I know it’s a long way away, but… if you don’t mind…”

Milton glanced at the buildings for a second before he returned his gaze. “I can’t see a reason why not since you surrendered so easily, Mister Matthews.”

“Thank you,” Hosea starts but stops when he notes they’ve right next to the bank. Silver Dollar stills feeling his rider’s hesitation and sadness. But the hesitation passes through him quickly, and he kicks Silver back into a walk.

“They’re buried on the outskirts.”

“I know.”

“And they won’t be bothered despite their past.” Hosea looks to him in confusion. “I’m not in the habit of digging up graves without good reason. Neither is the chief, and he’s agreed to make sure they’re moved. Besides, the graves are far enough out, I highly doubt anyone will bother them anytime soon.” Hosea searches Milton’s face for a lie, but he sees none.

“Thank you,” he breathes. “For being honest despite everything the gang as a whole have done. I can respect you for that much.” Milton tilts his head in response. The conversation reaches a lull until they’ve arrived at the Saint Denis police station.

“About your horse, Mister Matthews. What do you want done with him after?” Hosea pauses from dismounting and looks at Milton thoughtfully. “He seems to be a good horse. And you’ve been rather docile since we found you, so I see no reason not to consider your opinion on where he should go.”

“I see.” Hosea rubs his chin. “A good home, if you can find one. That’s all I ask.” Another nod from Milton, and the two dismount and head inside followed by a few agents. Once inside, he sees Bill, Micah, and Dutch all in separate cells leaving one for him. A tinge of sadness taps him seeing Dutch, but his heart goes cold remembering it was Dutch’s bullet that killed Arthur.

Milton gently leads him to his cell, and he goes in without a fight. The cell door rattles shut, and Dutch has glanced up to see him standing in the next cell over. He leaps from his bed and holds on the bars separating them. 

“Hosea,” he breathes shocked to see the older man there. “Please forgive me. I’m begging you.” Tears slip from his eyes, but Hosea turns his back on him to settle on his bed.

The silence from him is enough to understand Hosea has no intention of forgiving him. His once handsome face to Hosea contorts into sadness and disbelief before he stumbles back to his cot, and asks Milton, “Was Arthur… was Arthur buried properly?”

“He was,” Milton confirmed placing his hands behind his back. “Tomorrow morning you all will be hung until dead.” The Agent’s mouth twitched into a rueful smile. “It seems in the end, van der Linde, I caught you after all.” With that said, Milton leaves them in the hands of the police where they await their deaths. There will be no escape for them.

Morning comes yawning through, and they are given one last meal before they’re loaded into a prison wagon. Hands and legs tied, the group is shuffled off to one of the parks where the gallows are. A crow waits eagerly to see some of the van der Linde, including the two top people, hung before them. And to their delight, Hosea is brought first, even though he isn’t the leader.

He hears his last rites read along with his charges. No words of defense or false promises of a changed heart slip from his mouth. The trap door opens, his body falls, and he feels nothing more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for being on this journey with me. I hope you enjoyed Ashes of Eden!


End file.
